Limitations
by Relks the Disturbed
Summary: The Traveler. It gave us the ability to fight against the Darkness. To stand against the aftermath of the Collapse, and fight back for the remnants of the Golden Age. Many revere it almost as a God. But one, in particular, doesn't even know what it is. He is a Guardian who died long ago, before the Traveler was ever found. He must come to terms with the new world, and become Legend
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, everybody. Little intro first. Hi, I'm Relks the Disturbed. I've done a bit of fanfiction writing up to this point, and I'm sure a lot of you are familiar with my usual writing partner: Puppeteer of the Realms. And in my working on fanfics with him, I've discovered we share a vicious cycle. He finds an idea he really likes and runs with it. I add to it here and there with characters and little plot ideas. And then I decide I like the characters and writing for the universe so much that I end up deciding to write for that fandom myself. **

**It happened with our RWBY fics. And now it happens here. For anyone who's read Puppeteer's newest work, Mortality, you're going to recognize the main character of my story pretty quickly. I enjoyed creating him so much I wanted to bring him life beyond the limits of what Puppeteer wanted in his work, and as it's my character I had free reign to do so. Puppeteer was cool with it, so here we go. **

**So, in short, there will be characters in this story that appear in both Limitations and Mortality, but though they are the same Who, it will not be the exact same Where and What. Multi-verse theory and all that. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny. It's the property of Bungie(This is awesome) and Activision(This part sucks). **

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><p>Smoke was everywhere. The sounds of bullets flying through the air could be heard no matter how hard he tried to tune them out. There was a sharp <em>ping<em>, and a sudden flash of pain along the left side of his head. The blow was disorienting but thankfully not fatal.

'_Thank God for Uncle Sam not skimping on the combat gear.' _The errant thought brought a smile to his face, that is until another sharp _ping _bounced off his helmet and left him seeing stars. A growl tore its way up from the depths of his throat, as he crouched low to the ground and sprinted as fast as he could to the burned out husk of a bus. A lull in the gunfire caused his whole body to tense.

'_Fuck. If they stopped shooting, somebody lost.' _That thought did not bring a smile to his face. When the sound of your own breathing and the crackling of burning fires was all you could hear during a war, something was very, very wrong. Gritting his teeth with anxiety, he slowly rose from his cover behind the car. He felt his throat close in fear as he bullet zipped passed his head.

He forced himself to push through that, shouldering the M4-Carbine in his hands, '_Sniper. Top floor, second window from the left.' _Gunnery Sergeant Hartman's training took over as he sighted his target. He let his line of sight settle over the centermass of his enemy, and squeezed the trigger twice. The body of his enemy jerked unnaturally, and he pulled his line of sight up to plant another round at right where the dying man's chin should be.

"One down, millions to go," he sighed under his breath. The sounds of planes overhead drew his gaze up, and he felt a knot in his stomach as a bomber jet passed over, and it definitely wasn't American.

"Private Coulson!" His head whipped to the left, seeing his CO sprinting towards him. He was a large man, African American with a close cut beard. He slowed to a walk as he grew nearer, raising his right hand to point to the sky. The normally stoic man's face did not hold the silent determination that had carried his squad through thick and thin in this war. Instead, it was marred with a resigned look of defeat.

The booming rumble was the giveaway. He felt his knees buckle, the dull reverb as his back hit the burned husk of the car. And yet some perverse part of himself couldn't tear his eyes away, watching the huge metal spear fly through the air towards the heart of the city. His blood ran cold, ice flowing through his veins as he knew what was about to come.

"It's been an honor serving with you, John," he muttered to his CO, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You too, Roarke. Godspeed."

'_Of course, the Chinese were the first to drop the dirty bo-' _

That was Roarke's last thought, as a blinding light flared from the city and engulfed everything….

"Guardian! Wake up, Guardian!"


	2. Chapter 1: A Whole New World

**Alrighty! First off, I must apologize for the long gap between chapters. I know I promised some of you that I'd be having the next chapter out soon after the prologue, but, well, life happens. On the other hand, I'm now living under my own roof with my girlfriend and a friend of mine, and life's going pretty good. Finally got around to getting this done, and then took another too-damn-long proofreading it.**

**This chapter isn't very heavy on the action, but that's to come later. Hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny. It is the property of Bungie Entertainment.**

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><p>A flash of blinding light eradicated the cityscape ahead of him. Buildings of stone, concrete and steel devoured in fractions of a second by nuclear fire. Unimaginable pain, as every nerve in his entire body was set ablaze and frozen in the same instant. And then….nothing…..<p>

"...dian…"

'_Agh… my everything hurts….'_

"Wa…..Guar…."

"Wake…...dian…"

"Wake up!"

"Wake up, Guardian!"

'_Can't a dead man sleep in peac-'_

Bodily function came back in a sudden flurry of sensations. Dozens of smells long forgotten assailed his nose. Sounds of nature and crumbling stone reached his ears. His eyes burned in agony as his first vision was a flash of blinding light. The feeling of artificial, textured material came to him as he brought his hands to his face to shield his eyes.

"Ah! Finally you're awake!"

Roarke hesitantly cracked open a single cobalt eye to see his hands enwrapped in some sort of black, ballistic fabric. He pulled his hands away to reveal a strange, angular machine floating in front of his face. It consisted of eight blocky pyramids surrounding a black orb, a single electric blue circle mimicking an eye illuminating the orb's surface.

"What are y-" Roarke's question was abruptly ended as his chest gave a great shock of pain. Wet, heavy coughs wracked his body as he curled into himself, his lungs unaccustomed to the labors of deep breathing.

"Easy!" The floating machine spoke, the blue circle of its 'eye' glowing brighter as if to stress its advice. "You've been dead a long time. A very long time if my scans are correct. I was able to bring you back, but your body is still well, 'rebooting', so to speak."

A great, shuddering hack of a cough tore its way out of Roarke's chest as he forced himself to take slow, even breaths in and out. He meticulously pulled air in through his nose, and slowly let it out through his mouth. The exercise seemed to have the desired effects, the coughing fit subsiding and allowing him to take deeper breaths.

"Brought me back? What do you mean, brought me back?" he gasped, body still starving for oxygen. A cursory glance down showed strange, slightly bulky armor adorning his legs and shoulders, with a more streamlined and angular piece covering the majority of his torso. "And where did this…" he paused for a moment, both stumbling on his words and fighting to breathe again, "...this armor, come from?"

The machine hovered closer to Roarke as the recently revived man continued his breathing exercise, a cone of blue light washing over him as the machine scanned him, "Well, I'm a Ghost. I guess, technically, now I'm your Ghost. I've been looking for you for a very long time. And as for the armor, I transmatted that myself. You are uncomfortable enough without being naked _and_ recently revived."

The words of the strange floating machine, the Ghost, sunk in as Roarke calmed his breathing, and slowly got to his feet. As the stiffness and aches began to vanish, he found himself feeling stronger. Lighter in body, and yet somehow feeling denser, tougher. He felt like he could tackle an elephant and win the struggle.

He was so absorbed in thought, and the glowing, floating, talking box hovering in front of him, that it took him a moment to realize that he was outdoors. He stood in the middle of an urban avenue, grass having defeated concrete long ago as it sprouted up through crags and cracks in the pavement. Rusted and damaged cars, the glass of every derelict vehicle shattered and lost, littered the landscape. Lining the avenue like the macabre bookshelves of a forgotten age were dozens of towering, desecrated skyscrapers.

"Where… am I?" Roarke breathed, chills running rampant down his spine as he began to notice ancient skeletons, peeking out front the patches of grass or gazing into nothingness from inside vehicles. The skyscrapers seemed too...modern, especially for something that looked so ancient. When he had died, the buildings had been brick and stonework, but these seemed to be composed entirely of steel.

"My files indicate this place was once called 'Los Angeles'," the Ghost flickered with its words as it came to float above his left shoulder.

"But, I was there," Roarke's legs buckled under him, sending him backwards into a sitting position as he held his head in his hands. "I was in Los Angeles. I was there when it got nuked!"

"I understand that this is quite the shock to you, bu-"

"No, no no no. No, no, no," Roarke cut Ghost off before he could even finish his thought, gripping and tugging at his short hair. "This is some sick dream. Some sick, fucked up dream from too many shots down at the bar again. Here in a minute John's gonna kick me over, and shake me awake, and then he's gonna slap me when I make a slurred comment about his mother, and, a-and..."

A distant, warbling screech echoed through the forsaken city, rousing the Ghost from his staring at Roarke. The newly reborn Titan still refused to move, murmuring over and over how this couldn't be happening. Another cry echoed from a different section of the city, confirming the Ghost's fears. It flew over to the distraught Guardian and gently bumped itself against his shoulder.

"We need to leave, Guardian," the Ghost murmured quietly, it's shell expanding then contracting slightly. "That noise means the Fallen are nearby. We need to move. I didn't bring you back just to get us both killed."

Roarke raised his head and leveled a glare at the floating machine, "What proof do I have that this isn't a dream, huh?"The Ghost facilitated Roarke's request by flying away several feet, then zooming forward and slamming into Roarke's forehead.

"Ow, what the fuck!?" Roarke barked as he rubbed the tender spot on his forehead. "What the hell is that for?"

"Have you ever felt pain in any of your dreams before?" Ghost asked as it blinked in his face. He received a blank stare and a shaking head as his reply. "Then I guess this is real, no? Now get up!"

Roarke shook himself out of his stupor, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to his feet. The warbling cries came yet again, now closer than before. Now that Roarke was paying attention, it sent a chill down his spine, bringing back memories of the Chinese main battle tanks in the California Flower Fields.

"Fine, let's say I take this seriously: Where are we going now, smart guy?" Roarke's shoulders slumped slightly as he forced down his emotions and took a deep breath. His shoulders squared back up as he reopened his eyes, a cold determination settling in his cobalt gaze.

"We need to get off the streets, but before that, you might want to put this on," a cone of bright blue light extended from the Ghost's eye, a stream-lined helmet appearing at the edge of the cone and dropping into Roarke's hands. The Titan stared at the headgear for a moment, then slipped it on over his head. A metallic click echoed through the helmet before it and the suit he was wearing gaze a collective hiss, pressurising the interior of the suit.

Roarke's eyes widened in wonder as a heads-up-display assembled itself on the screen before him. A field of energy swept over the external layers of the armor, flickering for a moment before disappearing, a gauge filling up across the top of the HUD to show the energy shield's integrity. The Ghost floated in front of him for a moment, tilting forward in an imitation of a silent nod before disappearing. Roarke felt his throat tighten as a flicker of fear danced through his chest.

"Don't worry, I'm still with you," The now invisible Ghost's voice came from an internal speaker in the helmet. Roarke felt his breath come naturally again as the fear vanished, now knowing he hadn't been left to his own devices.

"So, first objective is getting off the streets, right?" Roarke double-checked, giving his armored arm an experimental flex. "I can't fight back?"

"Absolutely not! You don't even have a gun! We need to get off the streets and hide. If we're lucky we can get away from the Fallen long enough to find a radio tower or something for me to patch into," Ghost's panicked advice nearly rang inside the helmet.

"Alright, alright," Roare assented, his hands coming up in a gesture of surrender despite his knowledge that Ghost was in his helmet.

The greenhorn Guardian cast his gaze at his surroundings again, spotting an alley that seemed to lead away from the main roads. He set off towards the alley, before yet another warbled cry came from the distance. It sounded like it was just around the far intersection, and Roarke's military instincts set him crouching down behind the husk of a derelict car. He sprawled out along the ground, tilting his head to see through the gap under the vehicle.

A group of figures came around the corner only seconds after Roarke had taken cover. It was difficult to be certain due to the distance, but it looked like several of the figures actually had an extra pair of arms. The figures seemed roughly human-sized, maybe a little larger, and were of a similar humanoid build. Roarke swallowed a lump in his throat as they came closer, seeing that each and every one of them was carrying some strange weapons that looked similar to rifles or pistols.

"Guessing those are the Fallen," Roarke muttered under his breath, feeling a staccato of vibrations rumble through the ground as the group of enemies closed the distance to a mere twenty feet.

The group of Fallen passed directly in front of the vehicle Roarke hid behind. He could hear the quiet grumbling and clattering that seemed to be their equivalent of speech, the sounds feeling like a strange mockery of human speech. His whole body tensed as they stopped just beyond the car, and footsteps drew nearer. He could see a pair of black booted, two-toed feet coming closer and closer.

'_It's now or never,' _Roarke's thoughts came as he felt an adrenaline surge sweep through his body. He pulled himself into a crouch, quietly as he could, taking a breath as he prepared to move. He could feel the strength building through his body, the new reinforced form feeling better than it had before he died.

The Fallen soldier came around the car nonchalantly, wiry and thin, with only two arms on its upper body. Roarke sprung up like a piston, his right hand clenched into a tight fist as it slammed into the abdomen of the thing. The Fallen crumpled at the impact, stunned from the sneak attack, and Roarke followed through with a left hook to the side of its head. The blow carried the might of a Titan, and the strike caved in the alien's head with a sickening _crunch_. A pistol, sections glowing with a blue light, fell from the dead dreg's hands.

Knowing that his chances at stealth were now nonexistent, Roarke quickly swiped the shock pistol off the ground and turned tail. He could hear the angry sounds of the other Fallen as they noticed him, fueling his feet to carry him faster. The sounds of alien machinery charging, followed soon after, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

'_Come on, come on, come on!' _Bolts of energy zipped past his head, scorching the cement and steel buildings near him. The alley was so close now, just a few more feet. Just as Roarke reached the mouth of the narrow passage, a searing pain flash across his back. It vanished within an instant, but sudden impact made Roarke stumble. He nearly lost his footing entirely, but managed to right himself at the last moment, forcing his legs to pump faster.

He cleared the gap of the alley, angry howls following him. Metal crunched behind him, the car he had used as shelter crumpled as Fallen scrambled over it. Acting on pure instinct, the fleeing Guardian leaped clear over a knocked over dumpster in the alley, and ducked just in time as another lance of blue energy passed through where his head had just been.

"A little help!" Roarke barked as he rounded a corner, passing more peeling dumpsters and rusted trash cans. A primitive part of his brain made him throw down any cans he passed, even though his higher thoughts told him it was ineffective.

"_I would love to, what with my massive guns, deadly turrets and unstoppable assault tanks," _the voice of Ghost snarked, coming not from inside the helmet, but inside his head.

"You have those!?" Roarke gasped, another bolt of energy barely missing his helmet as the Fallen cleared the corner.

"_No, you idiot! __**Run!**_"


End file.
